Debriefings
by Voyager Tip
Summary: McCormick is trying to hide his reactions after the first few weeks of solving cases with the judge. But nightmares and distracted thoughts are hard to hide from a very observant Hardcastle. Takes place after "Once Again with Vigorish".
1. A Job Well Done

H&M Ch 1 A Job Well Done

Hardcastle glanced over at McCormick as the commercial began. He'd been wondering about the absence of comments about the movie, usually the kid had at least a few things to say about the Duke's adventures. He was surprised to see Mccormick's head tipped to the side and see his eyes closed.

Hardcastle shook his head._ "No stamina,"_ he groused to himself shaking his head. But, at the same time he was complaining, he was forced to admit to a certain amount of relief that the kid was okay. _"If he gets hurt on my watch, it'll be too much paperwork,"_ he forced the words to form in his brain, to cover up the other, more honest feelings,_ "it was a close one today when the kid had to not only drive that truck, but dodge bullets and fight off the hood who climbed into the cab."_ And the kid had done pretty good, heck, he had done great! Better than Milt could have ever expected. He'd punched out the hood and brought the truck to a safe stop. They had nailed Frank Kelly, the loan shark who had escaped arrest, once and for all. Milt smiled, contented in a great week's work.

After the movie was over, he woke up McCormick, who gladly headed over to the Gatehouse.


	2. Nightmares

H&M Ch 2 Nightmares

McCormick awoke suddenly, sweating and gasping for breath, his heart pounding. For a moment he lay still, convincing himself that he was in his bed in the Gatehouse and that he was safe. He sat up after these facts registered as the truth and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The room wasn't dark because of the full moon outside, but Mark moved to put the light on anyway, his thoughts filled with the scene he'd just dreamed about.

_He caught the shovel and threw it back immediately, "if you think I'm gonna dig my own grave, you'd better stop by the garage an let the air outta your head," he told the hood. A split second later... Bang!_

McCormick flinched as he saw himself fall to the ground in the turn his nightmare/daydream always seemed to take.

_"That's not the way it happened",_ he reminded himself.

_"It could've,"_ the voice inside his head insisted on saying. And there was the rub. That was why he couldn't seem to put this particular nightmare to bed. Worse yet, this afternoon, we'd been staring out at the ocean, unable to stop the scene from replaying in his head, instead of finishing up the hedges. The judge had had to repeat himself twice about what chores he had to finish by suppertime. Mark really wouldn't be able to keep the judge from finding out about this problem if that happened again.

He reached up with both hands and dragged them over his face, then glanced at the clock. It was 3:30 in the morning, and if this was like the last few nights, he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, and he wasn't sure he wanted to either. He stood up and stumbled down the steps to the kitchen and began to fix himself yet another nighttime bowl of chicken soup._ "Comfort food"_ he thought to himself. He wondered what Hardcastle would think of that.

He had only been with the judge for 8 weeks, but he already knew that weakness of any kind would not be tolerated, and Mark felt very sure that having nightmares would be seen as a weakness. He wished he could figure out what was going on himself though, he had never had trouble with nightmares before, and therefore he didn't really have an idea of how to banish them.

And he needed a good night's sleep, since he was now living in the Hardcastle Universe, and couldn't ever predict what nutty plan would become his next nightmare. Every day it seemed was filled with yet another plan for capturing yet another hood, and unless he started to get some better sleep, he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up. And he had to keep up, he wasn't going to let this opportunity get away from him. He would never admit it to the old donkey, but, the truth was that he liked it here. And he was committed to making the job with Hardcastle work, he just needed to get a handle on the nightmares.


	3. Second Thoughts

H&M ch 3 Second Thoughts

"Morning kiddo" Milt greeted McCormick with a smile as the ex con entered the kitchen. He had risen early, as usual, and had made breakfast

"Morning judge", Mark offered as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He had managed to doze off on the couch at around 5:30 am and was having trouble waking up. "What's got you so upbeat?"

"Glad you asked that McCormick, I've got my eye on our next case," the judge said with a gleam in his eye. "And this guy really needs to be taken down. He brings more drugs across the border than anyone else… drugs that get into high schools too."

Mark felt his stomach churn and his chest get tight. Awareness came quickly however, and he covered up the reaction by standing up and heading to the fridge for some orange juice.

But Hardcastle saw the flicker of something strange in his eyes and let his gaze follow the kid to the fridge.

"What's wrong McCormick? Drug dealers put their pants on just like anyone else," Hardcastle continued, then paused when the kid still hadn't said anything.

"Okay, let's have it?" the judge said testily.

"What?" Mark answered innocently.

"What's wrong with working this case?"

"There's nothing wrong with it judge," Mark answered, but though the words were correct, there was no energy in their delivery.

Hardcastle stared at McCormick as the kid sat back down and began to play with his food. He paused, "well, once we set our strategy, you'll see that this case'll be just as slick as the others."

Mark's stomach turned into a vice, his heart pounded and his palms started to sweat.

"Sure judge, whatever you say. Uh, I'll just get started on the mowing." With that, he stood up, put his dishes in the sink and took his toast with him as he left out the back door.

Hardcastle's eyes narrowed, something was wrong. He didn't know the kid that well yet, but he could tell that something just wasn't right. He went back over the facts in his head. Yesterday, the kid had been so distracted that he'd needed to ask him something twice, last night he'd been too quiet and then had fallen asleep halfway through the movie, and now that he thought about it, he had looked tired this morning...too tired for someone who'd fallen asleep at 9 pm the night before. And this morning he'd barely said a word, had reacted badly to the mention of their next case and had only eaten a slice of toast. _"No,"_ Milt corrected himself, he'd taken it with him, Milt didn't know whether he'd eaten it or not.

But, what did all that mean? He'd been adamant with himself that he wasn't going to baby the man. That's probably how he'd managed to make a mess of his life so far, people had babied him. He'd told Barbara Johnson that during their first case. Well, he was a grown man and he'd just have to toughen up, and if he couldn't cope, then, well, Milt paused on this train of thought, he'd have to go back to prison he supposed.

Milt's expression showed distaste, he didn't want to see that happen. But, why was the kid apparently unwilling to tackle their next case?

Mark McCormick paused halfway back to the Gatehouse and stared across the beautiful scene. He already felt better, though he was surprised by his reaction to their next case. What was wrong with him? He didn't even know very much about the case yet, so how could he be feeling so upset about tackling it?

Suddenly, the fresh air and beautiful scene got the better of him and he smiled. It would be okay. He could handle anything the old donkey could dish out. He headed to the garage and was mowing the lawn within 15 minutes.

Hardcastle stared out at the ex con as he moved slowly back and forth across the lawn. If he didn't want to be here, he wouldn't be mowing the lawn, would he? Maybe there wasn't anything wrong after all.

"I'm done with the lawn judge," Mark offered as he strode into the den and plopped down into one of the more comfortable chairs.

Hardcastle looked up from the file on his desk. "Good, I'll fill you in on this next case," he said, keeping a close eye on McCormick. The nervous reaction was there again, and once again, was quickly covered up by a change of position, this time by reaching for a magazine and starting to flip through the pages, giving the appearance of boredom.

Hardcastle paused for a second, and then settled back into his chair. "Okay hotshot, I wanna know what's bothering you," he said in a menacing tone. One that conveyed the need for immediate honesty very clearly to the ex con.

Mark stared at the judge, knowing that the jig was up. His stomach was tied up in a knot again and although he was very good at hiding his feelings, apparently he couldn't hide this reaction from this man. "Okay, I'll tell you, but before I do, can you answer one question for me?"

"What's that?" Hardcastle's tone was not amused, it was clear he didn't want to play games.

Mark swallowed hard, "do you think I'm a coward judge?"

The question hung in the air as Hardcastle tried to come to grips with what was going on. In his wildest dreams, he would never have thought that McCormick would ask him that question.

"Of course not, what kind of question is that?" he answered, thinking of all the things he'd seen Mark do that would fall into the category of bravery.

"If I answer your question, I want you to keep that in mind."

"Okay, so what's bothering you?"

"I've been thinking about what happened with Tina Grey...nightmares too," he whispered, his eyes downcast. He may as well be completely honest, especially if the guy was going to be able to read him so easily.

"That case was 3 weeks ago," Milt said.

"I know but I'm just thinking about how it could have gone differently. It goes differently in my nightmares."

"Well, you were sure taken in by her…"

"Not that part...I know I was fooled, but I was thinking about when they asked me to dig my own grave…"

Silence

"They asked you to… why don't I know that?"

"Well, I guess I didn't wanna talk about it…"

"You gave a statement to the police."

"It was in the statement…"

Milt stopped suddenly. "I never read your statement, I thought I knew what happened."

"I just wanted to get out of there."

There was another long silence. Finally, Hardcastle asked, "so what is it that you've been thinking?"

"What I was thinking was, that I told him I wouldn't do it. I mean, I threw the shovel back at him and insulted him... without a second thought. But, if he had to dig the hole anyway, he could've just killed me right then, it would've been easy to just push my body into the hole. Digging the grave might have kept me alive longer. Course, he didn't kill me, and it worked out. But I was just thinking, I was operating on my gut instincts, maybe if it had been another type of person, that wouldn't have been the right thing to say. Another person might have just killed me right then."

"Sometimes all you've got is gut instincts. But, it's good to think about things afterward too. Maybe get some insight."

"How do you tell what kind of person is holding the gun? I answered him based on my feelings, not my consideration of his. I just think I should have paused a minute before I answered him."

"There's a lot that goes on when you go after these kinds of people. A lot that you don't even realize. You're constantly weighing your options. I think you're right, you might have been better off to dig… hard to say though."

"When you first started on the force, and had your first gun battle, did you think about it afterward?"

"Course I did," was Milt's quick answer._ "Constantly,"_ he thought to himself. "They made us go over everything we did, and what everybody else did to."

"Did it take you awhile to digest it all?"

Hardcastle shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of the intensity of the situations he had put McCormick in. Not that he hadn't realized it of course, but he'd forgotten that the kid didn't have any training, or a way to deal with it, and suddenly, Hardcastle's version of how well things had gone down didn't seem so accurate. He got up and headed for the door without answering, "I'll be back later."

Milt went straight to the Vette and drove away without giving McCormick the opportunity to ask another question. He drove straight to the police department and headed for Captain DeLaney's office.


	4. Debriefing

H&M Chapter 4 Debriefing

"What's up Milt?" Delaney asked as he entered without knocking.

"Mike, I've been an idiot."

"Let me get that on tape," the cop answered with a smile. But after he saw Hardcastle's face, his face fell. "What's wrong Milt?"

"If a rookie cop is involved in a situation where shots are fired, let's say they didn't fire their gun, but they were shot at… what kind of debriefing would you do?"

"You know the drill Milt, anything that happens with a rookie gets top priority with psychological testing. They interview the rookie, compare pre-testing results with predicted responses, let them talk it out, give em a few days off if they need it. Why? You aren't doing anything with one of my rookies are you?"

"I've got my own rookie, Mike. He hasn't had police training and he's been shot at, told to dig his own grave and who knows what the hell else. And I haven't even considered how he's been dealing with all this."

"You mean McCormick? He's an ex con Milt, relax, I'm sure he can take anything you can dish out."

Hardcastle stared at him, suddenly angry, "he may be an ex con, but he keeps talking about a case from 3 weeks ago….. and he's not sleeping very well."_ And he's not as tough as he pretends,_ he thought. He suddenly felt a need to protect McCormick from everyone's assumptions about him.

Mike exhaled loudly. "Milt, you've been dealing with this kind of stuff for decades… and you just assumed he'd deal with things as quickly as you do." It was a statement, not a question. A statement from someone who knew him very well.

Hardcastle stared at his friend, and realized Mike had it right. That's exactly what he had done.

"I guess I just didn't think," he whispered.

"I can ask someone in Psychological Testing to talk to him if you want."

"No, I can handle it… now that I know what I'm doing. Thanks."

"I didn't really do anything."

"You were here Mike, that's all that matters."

Milt left Police Headquarters and drove back to Gulls Way feeling guiltier with every passing mile. How could he have been so cold hearted? He hadn't even considered that McCormick might have a rough time dealing with some of the stuff that happened to them. They had brought in 2 major criminals, just since Jersey Joe Bieber and Tina Grey. That was more than 3 shootouts, no wonder the kid couldn't sleep. McCormick was trying to adjust to his 1st 3 or 4 gun battles all at the same time, with no one to talk to or discuss it with. And that didn't even count any other kinds of problems, like being captured by the mob and asked to dig his own grave.

He pulled into the driveway and saw McCormick raking up an area near the pool. He motioned him toward the back door and they entered the kitchen together. Milt went to the window over the sink and pulled the shade down, then turned to McCormick and motioned him to sit.

"First, I want to tell you about debriefing," he began. "As long as that shade is down, this is debriefing. That means you can say anything and I can't hold it against you. I can't even talk about it to anyone else, it's completely confidential. Second, I know we haven't done this before, but, we're starting now. We will be debriefing every case. Third, all cops go through this whenever they're put in danger, shot at, have to discharge their weapon, anything, so it's completely normal, and everything you feel, I've felt it already, so there's no reason not to talk about anything." He paused, "got that?"

McCormick closed his mouth and swallowed, "got it," he whispered.

"Okay, we've got 3 cases to debrief, any order you want kiddo."

So Mark began to talk about how scary it had been to drive through the golf course and again while he was being shot at in the auditorium when they were trying to protect Kid Calico. One of those bullets had come very close… much too close to his head, and that was another thing he'd tried to push out of his thoughts.

"Did you notice how big that truck was?" he asked Milt, jumping suddenly to their latest case.

Milt nodded.

"Know how many times I'd driven a rig that big?"

Hardcastle shook his head.

"That was the third time...once in a parking lot, once on a straight, flat road, and then during the case. I don't even have a license to drive one of those big rigs. God, trying to avoid those cars, handle the turns, and the brakes failed…." McCormick stopped talking, a haunted look on his face. "That's another nightmare… I went off the edge…" he closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

"Then he was shooting at me and those bullets went right through the side of that truck… it's a miracle I didn't get hit… when that guy climbed in, I couldn't believe it… I had to punch him out while I tried to keep the truck on the road and not hit any oncoming cars….and find a way to stop…"

There was a long silence after McCormick finished and his ragged breathing could be heard. He struggled to calm down as the minutes went by.

Milt Hardcastle stared at the ex con, who sat looking at the tabletop, and who looked exhausted. Who looked like he felt embarrassed. Then, he tried to identify his own feelings. There was respect, and a little bit of pride at how well the kid had done. Something else too, that maybe was akin to affection. A strange feeling to have for an ex con who had only been working with him for 8 short weeks.

"I think that's about all we should debrief today kiddo. Why don't you take the rest of the day and tomorrow off and then we'll see if you're still having those dreams. Don't worry about the next case, we won't start it until I'm sure you're okay with the last three."

Mark looked up in shock as the judge flipped the window shade up, signifying the end of the debriefing. The old donkey wasn't sending him back to prison after all. He was actually giving him a day off, who would believe that?

"I can work around the estate judge, really…"

"Only if you can concentrate on what you're doing… yesterday it looked like you were a thousand miles away, and you had a power tool in your hand."

"Only hedge trimmers…"

"Do you have to argue about every little thing?"

"Well… yeah," McCormick answered, "I guess I do." Then he fixed the judge with one of his famous smiles and stood up. "Okay, I'll get a good nights sleep before I pick up any more power tools, okay?"

"Now you're cookin."

The End


End file.
